


Sappy

by Whippoorwill_Grey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Dark Reylo, F/M, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Kylo Ren, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Read at Your Own Risk, Rey Needs A Hug, Serial Killers, Slow Burn Rey/Kylo Ren, Stockholm Syndrome, Tags May Change, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whippoorwill_Grey/pseuds/Whippoorwill_Grey
Summary: After coming back from a six month leave, Rey finds herself caught within the obsession of a strange barista who has a darker agenda.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something inspired by "Sappy"- Nirvana

The sertraline sticks at the back of her throat, but its what she gets for swallowing it dry at five in the morning on a fucking Monday. 

_Mondays._ After a sixty-hour week of paperwork and bad moments, Rey rounds the corner of the poorly lit office and makes her way towards the small counter space that sports the coffee machine. 

The little Mr. Coffee machine chortles, steam rolling from the top of it as it spits out the beginnings of a new pot of the strongest blend of some off brand coffee brew, its possibly the worst nightmare of every ibs victim there is. 

She pauses mid-step and leans on the counter.

"Well, you look like shit." A soft mumble from her coworker Finn as he rounds the corner carrying a new stash of cups and sugar, tells her exactly what he is up to. She eyes his ruffled status before yawning. 

"Not like you look any better, you stayed overnight too." She says mid-yawn, hand coming up to rub her face.

"Yeah but I'm working on the newest case, you're just hiding out here overworking for some damn reason." Her friend smiles, dark eyes softening into wrinkles around the edges. "You should go home Niima." He means it. She glances away to stare at the need-to-be-cleaned coffee pot. 

"There's nothing there save for a bed." She sighs, pulling her messy bun down to reposition it into a low ponytail. She's fidgeting too much, but it's only because he is watching. She hates it when people watch. "Plus I dont mind going through paperwork. Somebody's got to do it."

"Yeah but, you used to be a great fucking detective. I dont get wh-" There it is. She knew this was coming. 

"You know what happened." And just like that, she is awake. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She sees his face fall from out of the corner of her eye, her heart picking up at the creeping chill running down her back. How could he bring up something that is so sensitive?

She sighs, turning on her heal, fists balled up. "You know what? I'll take today off, Im _sick."_

  


  


It's getting colder outside and she loves it. Stepping out into the chill she picks up a steady gait, her sweater is almost too thin to fight the cold, so she holds it closer to her; along with a worn leather brown sack bag for added protection. 

The little street looks lonely first thing in the morning; all of the puffy faces and sour attitudes. Everyone rushes, no one really stops to pay attention, and it's the most perfect opportunity to disappear into the background.

She can be nothing here; no one. Just another body among the masses.

Her boots click their way across the pavement leading her across the street to the little corner cafe. It's small and juts out on the stone architecture, the soft glow of Edison lights twinkle from behind large windows, it's convenient and close, the irony of it being adjacent to the police station sinks in as she handles her way through the door and into the warmth of the shop. 

The soft lull of classical music and aromas dance through her. 

"Good Morning Miss Niima!" A deep baritone calls, chirping like an early bird, it breathes life to her as she intakes the aroma of coffee. It's surprising how unpopulated it is so early in the morning, and she wants to smile to herself at the pure childish delight of not having to rush through the most beloved detail of her days. 

"Ben." She smiles, taking a reassuring glance around to make sure the ghost is clear. A finicky obsessive habit, but she does it anyway. Index fingers tapping against her thumbs, five times. Eight tables, three people- two on the left side of the store and one on the right side, the lights are a little cheery this morning. Two new pastries in the bake case, and the new change on the menu to adapt to the season. And of course...ah how could she forget?

Ben. The weird cornucopia of Ben, stands tall behind the counter, eyeing her in that strange deep way of his, it would be creepy if it weren't for the charisma. Truly.

She doesn't know how to feel about it after the earlier onslaught of Finn, everything has an edge. Hypersensitivity.

He sees too much, but for once she tries to overlook it. Ignoring the sullying intrusive feeling of something bad going to happen. 

"Your usual this morning?" He questions, voice soft enough to where it's just for her, and it draws her in closer to him. She nods, shifting her bag over to rummage for her wallet. She's a fucking mess. 

"It's on me this morning, you look like you've had a long night." He chuckles and catches her surprise with a dimpled half-smile. Something about him looks different, his hair? Ears? She rolls her tongue against her top teeth.

"You don't have to do that, I am happy to contribute to the store. I know you've worked hard on getting it up-" She goes in, but he's already turned away from her to begin steaming the milk. He is quirky this morning, bouncing on his feet to the strange offbeat of classical music. His hair flows around his face and down his shoulders, he's got it braided back into some intricate Viking half-bun thing. It's nice.

Peaking over her shoulder to notice there is no more customer traffic, she decides to stand and watch him work- for once.

"Ah, and I don't mind helping. You're one of my favorite regulars, it's only a matter of time that I try to attempt to flatter you with free coffee." His dark heather grey sweater tightens around his shoulders as he turns to retrieve a porcelain cup, the sound of clinking and churning commences before she can smell the mix of espresso. She eyes the way his sleeves roll-up his forearms. He's a big guy, strange that he works at a coffee shop and not some fitness program.

He turns and a noticeable silver scar stretches up his left forearm. It's deep and vertical. She notes never seeing it before, but then again she's never paid close attention.

"You know, trying to flatter a cop can get you into big trouble young man." She bites back, playfully crossing her arms. "and you could have put it in a to go cup, I dont want you having to do dishes because of me."

"It's my pleasure." He says- immediate straight face, dark eyes flicking up to catch hers, they're intense and dark and it strikes her for a moment. She stands there dumbfounded, watching the way his brows furrow, his long face pulling into a stern expression.

He winks before his lips pull into a toothy smirk.

"Your caramel macchiato Miss Niima." His jaw rolls in a way that she's never noticed as she leans forward and grasps the warmth of the cup with her hands, it sinks into her. 

She stares at it assessing the tight feeling in her chest before she looks up and mumbles thanks; only to slink to the corner of the cafe to sulk about what? Who knows.

  


  


The one thing about the medication, the symptoms are worse with caffeine. By the first cup her heart is fluttering like some trapped bird, and the mixture of coffee and nausea makes her crave fresh air. But she sits there, doing nothing but staring at the way the coffee stains the cup, of the texture of the intricacy of blended milk.

Of all things to latch onto. Of the strange intensity of a racing mind and the overbearing need to sleep.

"I see you enjoyed it." His voice is warm and sudden.

"I did, thank you." She nods, fingers traveling over the smoothness of the cup. It's the hypersensitivity. The anxiety hasn't gotten better, it feels like it's worse now that she's finally venturing out into public. And now she's just overanalyzing herself when she should be more _thankful._ How many psychological seminars and therapy would it take to feel human again?

"I'm about to have someone cover my break, if you'd like to go for a quick walk? The park isn't too far from here." His hand trails along the deep grooved refurbished wooden table beside her, his knuckles are pink and bruised looking and his hand puffed with blue veins. No calluses. 

"I think I need to go home...I need some sleep." She slurs, feeling the weight of all of the hours worked. Yeah, she just needs sleep.

He nods, cue the brow furrowing, and sucks in his lips for a moment.

"Hopefully another day then?" He continues and she nods.

"Is it okay if I walk you home then? Make sure you make it safe. Be there if you fall over from exhaustion." His voice is so soft, strange, it floats around her. The room is closing in and getting stuffy. She wants to just close her eyes, but all she does is nod and grabs onto his arm as she tries to clamber her way to her feet.

He lets her because hes a nice guy, and she's just overly fucking tired and rude. Plus the sinking sensation in her chest weighs her down. She just needs sleep. Thats it.

He lets her hold onto his arm as they walk to her apartment complex, taking a taxi at some point. She's blinking back spots by the time she's keying into her door and waving goodbye to the dorky tree of a man on her doorstep.

"Thank you." She hears herself say and locks the door after she closes it.

  


  


  



	2. And If You Save Yourself, You Will Make Him Happy

"You didn't answer your phone Rey." Leia Organa states, steel eyes glaring through the screen of the battered chromebook interface. The screen is in pixels for a moment before it clears out, Rey sips at the stale microwaved coffee and grimaces.

"I passed out and slept all of yesterday." She inquires, fingertips tapping against the worn surface of the coffee table. She currently situated her little laptop up on the only furniture in her apartment, and sits half slumped over on the matching wooden chair. 

"Your work called me..." The older woman quips, lips thinning out in a disappointed look. She is Rey's sixth therapist, the only one bold enough to snap back or stick around.

Leia eyes her through the computer, watching silently before a massive wolfhound paddles through the view of the camera to sit beside Leias desk. The wolfhound's name is Chewie, Rey had learned that much on the very first day of meeting the woman, and there has not been a day since that he has not appeared to simply lay his head on the woman's thigh.

It takes her a moment to gather what to say. Really there isn't _anything_ to say.

"You could have just sent the hospital to my door." 

"That is not funny Rey." Leia sighs, leaning back within a black computer chair before pressing the index and middle finger of her left hand to her forehead. It's her thinking stance. 

"Really, I was asleep. Worked an all-nighter for the past two nights and it caught up to me. I'll do better. Really. I'm sorry for not answering my phone earlier, either. I know you have other patients you need to attend to and I hate to waste your time." She mumbles and glances away. Focusing hazily on her reality, pale light casting in from the early morning, a soft rumble of thunder from outside hints that a storm is coming. Her curtains are spread open to allow the natural light in, the balcony beyond displays a few empty flower pots from the attempted garden. None of it feels right except for the oncoming storm.

"I know, I know it's hard, but dont be so hard on yourself. You've gone through a lot over the past year, you need to take time for yourself and focus on healing. Find someone to spend time with, go out and do things that you enjoy to do. " The woman languidly pets the head of the hound. "Maybe it would help you out better if you were to fly over for a session in person? Get out and away from the city?"

Rey doesn't say anything for a long time, her hands cupping the now cold coffee cup. She needs to head to work soon, catch up on what she missed. 

"Is the medication working?" 

"No...maybe? I dont know, I cant _think_ or...or _feel."_

"Its better than the obsessive thoughts? The paranoia and anxiety- right?" Ms. Organa fades into the background, and the morning stretches.

The adventure to the station is wet and cold, muddled by the constant misting and deep gurgling of thunder. Its almost mid-day when she makes it into the station, drenched and shivering through many layers.

Boots squeak against the linoleum and no one bothers to glance her way, not like they did when she had come back from leave. No, shes old news now. Its nice.

She finds her desk just as she had left it, folders stacked and papers scribbled on in a haste of brainstorm. 

She sits down and leans forward to scoot closer when a newspaper lands in front of her. 

"Bastard made the headlines again." Finn growls, she doesnt bother to glance at him to know of the scorn full way he eyes the black ink. 

Large letters jet out against the surface of the paper.

**THE NEW ORDER**

_**REN STRIKES AGAIN!!** _

_Brutal stabbing of Jessica Lance and Hilton May._

She sighs, ready to cut into Finn about trying to drag her into the case, when she notices him lean close. 

"Son of a bitch left a _note_." His dark eyes narrow, and her entire world halts to a stop.

"A note?" Her voice heaves out in a whisper. 

"Yup, the second one within the past month. The usual, vivid detail on how he kills them-" Finn leans in close, still eyeing the paper as she tries to focus on the paperwork on her desk. She refuses to read anything about the newest case, refuses to have anything to do with it. Better that she doesnt get caught up within it...

"I cannot continue this...you cannot continue trying to tell me Finn." She begs, the back of her throat aching in a way that bothers her. Something to drink would be nice. Her fingers are steadily tapping against the hardwood of the desk in a way that grounds her within the moment. 

"Rey... _please._ You're the best detective we hav-had. I need you to help...at least look into the writing. You don't have to even look at any of the pictures. I thought they said you would be ready to come back. I mean." He pulls away from her, arms crossed as he stands beside her desk. "This is your job."

"You dont know what it was like Finn!" She snaps. "You have no fucking idea of what happened. No matter how many reports you've read, or the fucking pictures you've looked over. It was over a month before you found me! Before any of you had the sense to look through the evidence I had personally laid out. All of it, all of it was there, and all of you sat around on your asses!" She is trying to keep her voice low but nothing is working. Everything is fizzy and detached.

Black spots swarm her like little flies, buzzing in the back of her skull as her ears pop and ring loudly, nausea follows soon after as she stands up from her chair to grasp the desk for support. 

Her friend stands there, arms dropping to his side, before he is mumbling something that she doesnt hear. She needs to leave, needs to get fresh air, they would understand.

"Dont call the hospital." She states flatly, "I just need some fresh air..."

She turns to find a decent-sized group of people standing nearby, eyes wide with curiosity, their brows furrowed in a worrisome way. Once again she's the freak of the workplace; their eyes burn into her. 

"Have you taken your medicine? Do I need to call someone to come get you?" Someone is questioning, some woman with pinned up blonde hair, she notes that she has never seen this woman before in her life. 

"No, dont call anyone. She just needs some air. I'll talk to the captain about giving her a few more days off. She's stressed herself out over the last week, and im not helping any." Finn speaks up, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "Come on Rey."

She flinches away from his hand naturally and half-heartedly tries to find it in her to apologize. Another voice pipes up and with a glance, it is one of the interns scurrying across the floor. Once she spots Rey her smile dissipates. "Is she okay?" Her heels clack noisily as she makes her way over. Mary, Rey thinks. Trying to remember all the new people, apparently a lot has happened since she had left. "There was someone at the front desk asking for you Rey, I hope im not coming in at the wrong time?"

"Who is it?" She eyes the woman's plain face, hoping maybe there was a mistake. No one ever wants to see her. She's about as alone as a human can be. 

"A nice young man. I didnt quite catch his name, I think it was a Blake? Benjamin?" Mary's face scrunches up for a moment, but Rey doesnt press any further. It's the perfect opportunity to get away from the desk. From the paper.

Why would the paper even release something like this?

She hurries, barely grabbing her satchel bag, and disappears before anyone can stop her. It's the third outburst within the past month, and it's starting to get real old. Even to her.

What was the point of everything? The seminars, the therapy, it all feels like a useless trap to sink money into. That or she's too fucked up to even try to attempt getting better. 

Her face burns with embarrassment as she hurridly palms her sweaty hands against her black pants. She is still overly spacey, each step feels like an eternity to reach the office doors. It worries her how she has to constantly repeat where she is within her mind to keep her grounded long enough. If she doesn't do this, she forgets where she is, who she is, everything becomes a vacuum within her soul and it ceases all current existence. 

She licks her lips as she palms through the door, the handle shaking a little when she sees the visitor.

 _"Ben?"_ She says it just as she thinks it. 

He stands, a bundle of camellia pink flowers tucked between his right arm and a cup of coffee within his left hand. His dark eyes pierce through her as soon as she makes her way into the room. She doesn't know what to say, and absentmindedly paws at her hair.

"Ben, what are you doing here?" She whispers, trying to steady herself, wishing that he could have chosen any other time to show up. 

He doesn't say anything but instead sets the coffee down along with the flowers, worry writes it's way across his face. "You okay? Something happen?" He watches her before eyeing the broad double doors that she came from. 

"Why are you here Ben?" She says again, much louder, and watches carefully as he walks towards her. He feels much taller today than normal, and she takes a step back. Everything is so overwhelming.

"I haven't seen you at the shop in the last few days and thought I would come and surprise you...make your day better." His jaw rolls, it's clean-shaven, and now that she looks at him she realizes he dressed up. He stands, the weight shifted over onto one leg, long sleeve offwhite button-up that is tucked into dark brown khaki's. It's old school, a little weird, but it's nice.

"Oh." Her mouth parts slightly. No one has ever brought her flowers... or showed up randomly for her at the front desk. 

"Hey Rey!" Finn calls, maneuvering through the double doors. "Just talked to the boss, said it was perfectly fine for you to take a few days off. You're over-time at the moment and he advised you to take the week off." He smiles for a moment before he notices Ben. Stopping within his tracks.

"Who is this?" Finn steps closer to Rey, but she side-steps and makes her way to the flowers and the coffee. The flowers are lovely up close, light pink with red traces, she holds them close to her chest while she takes her coffee and takes a sip. Different taste today, white chocolate.

"This is Ben." She says, trying to mask being okay with a toothy grin. 

"Ben from the coffee shop across the street?" Finn eyes them, his dark eyes taking on a strange glint before he settles on watching Rey. 

"Yes, Ben from across the way. Today was my day off and I thought about surprising Miss Niima." The giant of a man steps forward and offers a hand, palm facing down, he is smiling but she sees that it is also forced. His movements are so fluid that he seems much older than he looks. How old is he actually?

Finn takes and shakes his hand for a moment before nodding, telling her briefly to message him when she makes it home.

"So, are you okay?" The deep baritone is so light that she hardly hears him as they make their way out into the cool Autumn air, the sky is much brighter than earlier, but the grey lull of the day intones more rain to come. 

"Im better now...thank you." She pauses, standing awkwardly for a moment. "I just...im not having the best day. The new case and everything I just..." She is stuttering and sounds so foolish. It's hard to think or do anything when the darkness prods at the back of her mind. The evergrowing torment of memory and strangeness. She tries to notice the anxiety, Leia said once it's noticed it can be helped, and god she hopes it helps. Hopes it would go away so she can focus on the current situation.

On the strange man doing _things for her_ , but then again she has no place to say anything negative. Not when having a random whatever-that-was in the offices. 

"Im glad I made it in time then." He nods, all of his hair is down today and it sways within the breeze. "We should go and do something? Maybe I can take your mind off of things?"

It's oddly intimate and it resurges the fear of not being able to really rely on someone, especially a stranger, but he's not really a stranger. Right? 

"Oh well...I have to run these to my apartment first. I dont want them getting ruined or anything." Yes, right, the flowers. Plus, if she is being completely honest with herself, she isnt feeling like she can exist in the real world today. The inner emptiness of her apartment beckons to her.

They begin walking in the direction to her apartments when she side glances to watch the way he eyes the people around them before glancing briefly over to her. Something about him seems on guard. 

"Of course. We should get out of the weather, maybe rent a movie?" He pipes up and she notices her brown satchel is thrown over his shoulder, and doesn't remember slipping it off or anything. 

She doesn't say anything, but wonders if she had spoken out loud about not wanting to be out and around people. 

"How old are you Ben?" She inquires suddenly, something in the back of her mind urging her to figure out more information about her new...whatever this was. 

His thick eyebrows rise up his forehead, "Why do you want to know? Are you _interested_?" His voice bubbles out and she catches a slight southern accent. When has he ever had the southern dialect? Rey masks her face for a moment, and he seemingly stops midstep to face her. His face portraying worry and something else that she's not able to grasp. "Im twenty-three...I really hope that's not a problem or anything." And the southern is gone, perfectly hidden within the deep baritone.

It's strange, the way he carefully constructs his speech patterns. She snaps herself out of it and feels herself sway along with the breeze. 

She's lost within her brain, paying attention to the details rather than the overall experience. Stop being so obsessive.

"Im so sorry, Im.." She opens her mouth before he moves closer.

"We should talk about this back at the apartment, you seem like you're dissociating on me, and I know it would be a lot more comfortable for you right now if you were in a safe environment." He speaks softly, lips close to the shell of her ear. Is she really that gullible?

All she can do is nod when he takes her by the arm. 

"Here we go, Room 252." He states again, unlocking her door with the right key on her keychain. It's a little odd, but maybe he had noticed it when he had helped her walk home last time. He pushes the door open and holds it like a gentleman, she takes cue and disappears into the warmth of the apartment. 

It's dark and empty, dove grey walls matched with marble countertops, the typical apartment style with the lack of any furniture aside from a dinky dining room table. It sits within the corner of the room, the two chairs perched on either side. As she takes it in, kicking off her shoes at the door, she notes how terribly lonely it seems. 

"I am so sorry for the....everything." She states, sighing. She shrugs off the worn cardigan and slips it onto the coat hanger. He doesnt say anything, but closes the door and locks it from the inside. The keys jingle for a moment before he slips off her satchel and hangs it onto the coat hanger as well. 

"I've been in far worse, Miss Niima. This does not bother me at all." He gives her a reassuring nod and follows her through the hallway, passing the kitchen, and stepping into the bare living room. She glances down to see that he left his shoes by the door as well, plaid grey and black socks peek out from underneath his pants.

"Do you have a television? We could maybe watch some television and I could find something in the pantry to cook for us?" She looks over at him, none of the lights have been switched on so all she sees are the shadows against the structure of his face. The corners of his lips tilt a little, and her heart aches for a moment. 

"I uh...I do. It's in the bedroom actually...if you're okay with that?" But it's not an invitation for other things, she wants to say, knowing very well she could be lying to herself. She is always full of surprises apparently. 

He nods. "Would you like me to get anything?"

"I should be the one saying all of this." She pipes up, chuckling to herself, she feels so absent from herself and it scares her. She stands placing her flowers underneath her arm and puts her face into her hands.

He steps closer, she can feel his presence, and she waits for a reassuring touch that never comes. Which is oddly more comforting at the moment. 

"I can call in and get us something. Pizza sounds nice?" He inquires, rocking ever so slightly on his feet. She nods, smiling ever so slightly, finally coming down from whatever crazy shit she experienced earlier. 

Now, she's tired again. It's the stress...or maybe the side-effects of all of the disorders she's tacked on over the year. Probably both. 

He pulls out a sleek phone and immediately begins typing away on it, they settle on pepperoni, when she takes initiative to find an old vase within one of the cupboards of the kitchen to place the flowers in. She is fixing them up when she glances up to catch Ben downing the rest of her coffee.

"So you're twenty-three...you know I am a little bit older than you for you to be following me home and staying for dinner." She tries to joke so she can ignore what just happened. He goes to find the trashcan when he pipes back up.

"You will never be too old for me Miss Niima."

"I am twenty-nine. Six years older." She finishes and puts the flowers on the table. They blush underneath the florescent lights that she had clicked on in the process of digging through the kitchen. 

"Will that bother you?" He asks, voice much closer than it was a second ago, she goes to turn around when she sees him walk up a little ways behind her, his arm reaching from around her. His fingertips caress the flowers which look incredibly small compared to his hands. 

"Aren't you in school or?" She turns to face him, wanting to know much more about him. Trying to find some excuse for this deep wretched feeling swirling in her chest. 

His side profile is dusted by a few moles, his dark eyes examine the flowers instead of looking at her, he is the closest he has ever been, and she realizes that she has never _truly_ looked at him before.

Dark almost-black irises are now a strange rust honey color. _Honey rust._

"Should that matter?" He rumbles, straightening up casually. 

"It does to me." She turns and leans against the table, carefully trying not to shake it too bad. 

"Well, I attended high school for a short period of time before graduating from college with a bachelor's in a few things."

"Wouldnt you still be in school right now, then?"

"I got a headstart." He nods. Pulling away. A slight pink dusting creeps along his cheeks in blotches. 

"So I have a genius on my hands?" She giggles, knowing she shouldnt pry. Not when he is so standoffish about it. 

"I just... I dont want you looking at me like im some kid that has this or that. I dont want you putting me in a box at all, you know?" His arm goes and scratches just behind his neck, its a fidgeting thing. She's seen it before in anxiety, or when someone stems. "Liking someone for their achievements can be very misleading. It can ruin a person, you of all people would know about that, right Miss Niima?"

She nods, eyes darting away. 

"So, where is this television you spoke of?" Changing the subject, he chuckles softly, again rocking on his feet. She coughs dryly.

"Oh, well, you've got to promise not to make fun of me okay?" She brightens, mind racing, something about having a stranger in her home makes her on edge. Even if it is her favorite barista. 

He cocks his head, hair falling around his shoulders, his dark eyes watch her. "Why would I ever make fun of _you?"_ His eyes twinkle playfully, and she giggles nervously. 

Walking past him and rounding a corner to a shut door, she peels it open and glances inside. 

The entirety of the room is bare save for a small box tv and an open walk-in closet. It's obvious, just by looking at the closet, that she sleeps in there. Having forced a mattress to fit, the ruffled sheets and pillows, are clear indications that the room is actually being used. 

She feels him walk up behind her and shivers, the voice in the back of her mind urges her to turn around, but she doesnt. Instead, she looks down at her bare feet, her face burning a little. 

"You have a lot less clothes than I imagined." He states, making her glance up at the lack of wardrobe. She allows it to hang around her, it makes her feel safe- _hidden._

"What does that mean?" She chuckles, stepping forward, only to watch the mass of the man step around her and into the room. Any sign of unease is lost by the lax nature of his shoulders. 

"Most people have a lot more clothes." He states, turning on his heel to face her, a soft smile playing across his features. "But its good to be different. I like that."

She doesnt say anything but stands there watching as he turns around and leans down to switch on the television along with the small game console perched next to it. "You may want to find something to put this on so it doesn't over-heat, electronics aren't the biggest fans of rugs. Then again, Im a layman with technology. So.." He switches everything on, dwarfing the controller in his hands, while he stands there. She doesn't know what to say, or how to feel. 

The doorbell rings, making her jolt. He is passing her before she can even say anything.

"Pizza! I'll be right back."

He is too comfortable in her home, she realizes, but she isn't used to easygoing people either. Hell, the introvert that she is doesn't even know how to act around other people, especially lately.

She taps her fingers against her thumbs, a small rhythm as she walks forward and sits down on the edge of the bed. The darkness of her cave makes her relax slightly before he is coming through the bedroom with a pizza box in hand, and two water bottles dangling from his fingertips. 

"Pick a movie. Anything." He nods, crouching down to put everything in order, there is a strange orderly way he goes about everything. A fixation, almost compulsive. She watches as she takes the controller and aimlessly chooses Netflix. 

Nothing really jumps out, and if she is honest- she isn't in the mood to really sit and watch anything. Usually, she puts on The Office and lets it play in the background as she fights the existential dread of life. 

"Is it okay if I come in?" He asks suddenly, unbearably close, his eyes shine with the want to sit by her. 

"Yeah, I wont make you sit on the floor, I know I dont have much." She laughs. He leans forward and then turns and places himself next to her, the entirety of his massive thigh resting against her right, and the hyperawareness of his body brushing against hers every time he moves make's her heart rattle. 

She side-glances to see how unbothered he is, as he pops open the water bottle and sips at it. She tries to do the same, setting the controller down, and sighing with relief that the cap seal hadn't been broken on the bottle. 

The cold temperature of the water feels good against the heat of her throat. She begins to trust him more.

He picks up the controller and finds The Office, clicking play. 

"I didnt mean to be so intrusive earlier." She sighs, the first episode plays across the screen, and she leans forward to grab a slice of pizza, praying her stomach can hold it down. 

"Oh, You're perfectly fine. I understand. A strange man coming into your life so suddenly, it can be a little jarring." He leans and grabs a piece as well, nibbling. "Plus you're a cop, I would be a little worried if you didn't ask questions." 

She nods, setting the bottle down, and nervously waits for her stomach to begin rolling. What does she say now? What do they do now?

Michael Scott's face flashes across the screen and she hums a little under her breath, it's so odd, him choosing a show when he had talked about watching a movie. Maybe it's just coincidence, it's on the _watch again_ section of Netflix, so she just lets it ride.

The man next to her is monstrously big, and she quietly decides that him sitting on the edge of the bed that peaks its way from the closet and into the emptiness of the room, makes him stick out oddly against the material of her world.

He catches her eyeing him and finishes off the rest of the pizza, the pizza itself is rolled into some kind of makeshift wrap that he eats like a burrito, and when he swallows his adam's apple bobs.

"Thanks for stopping by the office earlier." Is all she can think of to say for the moment.

He watches her, his eyes are black and bottomless.

"Thanks for noticing me." His voice rumbles, "Honestly when we had first met, I thought I would never get to see you again."

"Why?" Her brows furrow and she leans in with curiosity- trying but failing to remember the exact moment they first met.

"You saved my life Rey. Even after all these years, I just...cant seem to let go of that simple fact." He cocks his head, face devoid of emotion, but his eyes shine like two black coals. She leans closer and something like a red flag flares up in the back of her mind when she notices that his eyes are dilated. His nostrils flare for a moment, and something like a small grin spreads across his face. 

"I dont...I dont understand." She stutters out, her brain searching helplessly for something to clue her in on what he is talking about. She has known him for years? Saved him? All she can remember is the coffee shop, and the way he would always find her in the crowd.

Her heart stutters pitifully in her chest, and her throat closes up. 

She is up and running to the door within seconds, hands scratching at the wood and pulling at the doorknob when a large hand wraps around her throat like a noose, and the other snatches her back against his body. 

"Shhh Shh Shh It's okay now. Im here." He is muttering, dialect smearing into something southern and deep, his jaw comes to rest against her face as his hand closes around her windpipe. "Now its my time to save you." He whispers, lips featherlight against the shell of her right ear, she chokes out a sound and feels his hands tighten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pink Camellia flowers: Symbol of romance, love, and affection. Longing for someone or something.


End file.
